


scenery paint of a forgotten place

by violetstorm



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Introspection, Self-Esteem Issues, Stargazing, ish?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 10:51:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18827167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetstorm/pseuds/violetstorm
Summary: Those days still get you, though. When your brain’s a little too loud and your body’s a little too sluggish. Where you lay in bed all day, watching the clock tick, tick, tick. If you stay here, curled under the blankets, would anybody find you? Would anybody notice you’re gone?You could text Noct, but you have these days too often. It must be annoying to care for you day after day. So you don’t text him and that’s how he shows up at your place later, bursting into your bedroom.“Hey,” he greets you. You wish you had the energy to hold a conversation with him, but it's okay because it's like he can read your mind anyway. “...Another one of those bad head days?Prompto hasn't been having a good time recently. It's hard, sometimes, working with a brain that's determined to hate you. Noct makes things a little easier, though, and that's all that matters.





	scenery paint of a forgotten place

**Author's Note:**

> POV is in second-person but it's Prompto?? is that... breaking any writing rules or anything? and how do you tag fics.... what would you even tag this as? q_q ,,,whatever,,  
> this was originally an original work of mine but i decided to torment prompto and make it into a fanfic >:3c debated for a while on whether or not I was gonna post this but then decided meh, why not :>
> 
> enjoy!

You’re something like a thorn in their sides.

A stubborn burr that’s determined to stay. You know this, see the looks they give you, but you can’t bring yourself to go because this is the most love you’ve gotten from anyone. Even if it’s forced and fake, you accept it all the same. You’ve never known or had better and you’re desperate.

A leech, you attach yourself to Noct’s side and refuse to let go, taking his hospitality, food, money, all without offering anything back in return. If you could, you’d give him everything, but you have nothing.

He keeps you around, probably just out of pity. You can’t imagine why else somebody would deal with you. Your parents certainly stopped trying years ago. Why would a prince care?

Why would anybody?

* * *

For being a Niff, with bright blonde hair, blue eyes and pale skin, you’d think a lot more people would pay attention to you. Weird looks when you’re walking down the street and all that. But you get none of that. The exact opposite, in fact.

You walk down the streets of Insomnia and people brush by you like you’re faceless. Maybe you are. It’s nicer then getting yelled at and blamed for the war, or whatever. It’s a lot less nicer when they don’t react at all when you accidentally bump into someone. They just keep walking on like nothing happened.

It makes it hard to tell if you’re really here or not.

* * *

Noct knows that you exist, though. And he likes reminding you of that. He texts you a picture of a funny-looking chocobo one day.  _ It reminded me of you.  _ You stare at his text until the words blur on the screen. You don’t understand how he can look at something real and think of you, but you don’t say anything.

Or maybe that’s all you are. Just an imitation or a shadow of something real. You don’t have any presence yourself. Fake, fake, fake. That’s all you are.

* * *

You’re adopted, whatever that word means. You’re pretty sure it means that a family brought you in like a stray puppy, but your family isn’t supposed to be strangers. Both of your families are strangers. You’ve never met your birth family (and as you look at the barcode on your wrist, you wonder if you have even  _ that)  _ and your foster family barely knows your name.

You tell yourself you don’t care, that you’re fine living alone, you’re used to it.

(It’s a lie, it’s all a lie.)

It’s stupid. But you see Noct gleefully talking about how he and his father are gonna have time to have dinner together over the weekend and you see Noct present his tests to Ignis with a proud sort of smugness over their shared dinner and something ugly curls in your gut. 

That’s what it must be like to have parents. Or at least, a family that loves you. People that love you. Just… somebody in general that loves you.

You just have yourself. And as you stare at yourself in the mirror, trying to meet the stranger behind it, you realize you don’t even have that. You have nobody. 

* * *

Somedays, your body feels like sand, like a particularly strong breeze will send you scattering, bits and pieces flying about until there’s nothing left. Or maybe you’re more like ashes instead, from a flame that burned too brightly.

You think that you should just lay there and let the wind carry you away. But Noct takes you, molds you into something more solid that he can hold onto so you stay.

It’s weird, the way he always holds your hand when you’re together. You don’t know why he’s going through so much effort to keep you nearby. But when you squeeze his hand, he always notices your touch and squeezes back.

* * *

Noct likes buying you presents, too. He’s a prince, of course he’s got a lot of money to spend. Why does he do it on you, though? You’re not worth much.

Still. All you have to do is look at something a second too long and he’ll buy it for you. Like that chocobo charm you saw in a store the other day. You gushed about how cute it was, but it suddenly became a lot less cuter once you saw the price tag.

And two seconds later, Noct was just pushing the charm into your hands. You try to give it back to him, but he curls your fingers over it and smiles and just says, “Keep it. It’s yours.”

You don’t even know what to do with it. You’re holding something solid in your hands and it’s strange. It feels like the charm should just pass right through your body and fall to the ground. But it doesn’t. It stays in your palm, it’s weight a comfort.

(and on those days when your body feels like sand, when you feel like you’ll be washed away, you grab onto the charm that sits safely in your pocket, anchoring yourself to reality.)

* * *

You crash at Noct’s place more often than not. You can’t take the emptiness of your house, even if it means Ignis has to cook a little bit more or clean a little bit more, even if it means there’s less room for Gladio to stretch on the couch. It hurts, and you know they’re just being  _ polite  _ when they say you can stay, but it’ll hurt even more to go home alone so you stay.

At Noct’s place, you sleep easier, eat a bit more. You chalk it up to the fact that Noct’s bed is like a cloud and Ignis’ cooking is really, really good. 

(you think you’re going to miss it when they finally drop the act and admit they’re bored of you).

Even if Noct’s bed is almost too comforting to leave in the mornings, you get up a the crack of dawn anyways. You quietly get ready and slip out the door for your morning jog. It’s always cold in the mornings, but you never take a jacket. You want (need?) to feel the wind cutting a path across your skin, the chill of the night seeping into your bones. Your breath is visible and they’re all reminders that you’re here. It makes you feel alive.

Noct is a little more than pissed when he finds out. He grumbles and groans about it being  _ too damned cold  _ in the morning because you leave the bed too early. And when he sees your coat left hanging on a chair while you’re jogging, his mood goes from sour to downright nasty.

“What the fuck, man? You’re gonna freeze out there,” he says, like that isn’t the point. “Take your jacket. Or one of mine.”

He means well, but you ignore him. Until he wakes up early one morning and bullies you into wearing your jacket. And then follows you out the door.

“Gotta make sure you don’t take it off outside or anything,” he says with a smirk. “C’mon. Let’s see why you do this every morning.”

He jogs with you. And you can’t feel the wind or the cold as well, but you feel more alive than ever. Noct complains and groans about having to wake up so early to jog, but he does it again the next day. And the next. Just to go jogging with you.

You tell him he doesn’t have to, but he insists. He shouldn’t have to torment himself for you. Add that onto a list of reasons for why you’re the shittiest friend, right next to “annoying” and “whiny” and “has nothing to give.”

But? Secretly, you’re thankful for his company.

* * *

Those days still get you, though. When your brain’s a little too loud and your body’s a little too sluggish. Where you lay in bed all day, watching the clock tick, tick, tick. If you stay here, curled under the blankets, would anybody find you? Would anybody notice you’re gone?

You could text Noct, but you have these days too often. It must be annoying to care for you day after day. So you don’t text him and that’s how he shows up at your place later, bursting into your bedroom.

“Hey,” he greets you. You wish you had the energy to hold a conversation with him, but it’s okay because he can read your mind anyway. “...Another one of those bad head days?”

You nod. And like all the times before, he helps you again. Opens a window for fresh air, brings you some water, makes you some food. Keeps you company and talks with you.

He must see the look in your eyes when you reluctantly take a water bottle from him because he says, “Don’t think so hard about it. I missed you, y’know? I didn’t come here because I was bored. I wanted to see you. And I wanna help you, too. You’re my friend. Don’t forget that.”

You’re feeling a little better, so Noct helps you up and together, you make your way outside your house.

The sun greets you, warm on your skin and you begin to breathe again.

* * *

You get a text in the dead of night, long after Noct’s left. Your phone buzzes from where it’s been sitting on the table and you have an internal debate with yourself before you give up and look at the message. The light chases away the tiredness in your eyes, but it’s not like you were gonna be getting any sleep anyways.

It’s one of those nights, where your head’s too loud and restless and you end up staring at the ceiling until the sun comes up.

Noct’s texting you, which is weird, because he should be asleep too. But he’s just asking you to meet at a park that’s halfway between your place and his.  _ No questions,  _ his text says. You don’t ask any questions, not even when you’re out the door and walking along the streets of Insomnia.

It’s quiet, deathly quiet. There’s no distant purr of a car, no crickets chirping. The lights in every house on your street are off. It feels like you’re the only person left on Eos. It doesn’t feel any different than how things usually feel.

It’s empty at the park and you sit down on the grassy field with only the moon for company. It’s not so bad. It’s kind of chilly, though, so you huddle in on yourself.

Noct appears a couple minutes later, with a backpack and he’s slightly out of breath. He sets it down and plops next to you, taking a few deep breaths. You must look confused, because he gives you a cocky smile and says, “Sorry for the whole last-minute thing. But I wanted it to be a surprise, y’know.”

You look inside the bag. There’s a blanket, a couple of snacks and bottles of pop. There’s a portable phone charger and a bit of spare change in one of the pockets. Noct pulls the blanket out and drapes it over your shoulders. It keeps the chill out. It’s nice.

“Heard you were having a bad time,” Noct says. He looks at you for confirmation and you shrug. It’s true, but it’s been more like a bad week or month or  _ ever.  _ You’re used to it but something tells you Noct won’t appreciate hearing that. 

“Yeah. So I thought I’d do something for you.” He leans back, laying on the grass. You join him. “When I was younger, and I had a really bad day, Ignis would take me outside at night. Sometimes we’d just walk around the Citadel, but once, he took me to the highest part we could get to with a bunch of blankets so we could watch the stars. He’d point out all these constellations and I’d completely forget about what had me so upset. I thought that since it worked for me, it might… y’know, help you out a little.”

Maybe it will.

“I’m not as good as Ignis, but maybe I can point out a few constellations.” Noct scans the night sky for a moment. “Oh, look, there’s one. Can you see it? Right… there.” He points but you can’t make any shape in the stars. You shake your head so Noct grabs your hand and points it to the same spot.

You still can’t find it, but Noct’s holding your hand, his gentle guidance more than what you could ask for so it’s not so bad. It feels like hours before you see what he’s talking about, the tip of Ramuh’s staff. 

“See? It’s nice, isn’t it?” Noct says. You agree. “What about Ifrit? Do you know what the constellation looks like?” You don’t, so he has to point again. “See that star right there? That’s the weird horn-things on his head. And there— that’s his arm.”

It takes less time for you to make out the shape. Noct’s buzzing with excitement as he starts pointing towards Shiva. You still need his help finding it, but you’re gradually getting the hang of it. You don’t need him guiding your hand anymore.

You’re getting better. Slowly, but still— you’re getting better.


End file.
